2

I shot up from my spring-filled mattress in a cold sweat, blinking rapidly as the splattering of viscera filled my vision for a moment, along with the dull thunk of a crowbar slamming into a man's head.

Pushing off the ratty covers, I stumbled to the small bathroom. Forgetting to duck, I bumped my head on the doorframe before looking into the mirror and seeing my regular rosy-cheeked face with curly brown hair naturally springing back out of my face.

Letting out a slight hum that filled the apartment and bolstered my spirits, I headed into the kitchenette and fished out a cup before filling it with the spluttering sink and taking a few long gulps of water, then rising out the last sip by gargling the water and spitting it out for a brief moment tasting that awful coppery taste and feeling the slick warm lifeblood and grey matter coating my hands.

Trudging back to my small bed, I pillowed my hoodie under my head and did my best to fall back asleep. Several long minutes later, I grumbled and went to flick the light switch on, deciding on reading through the Grimoire for a bit to see why that woman had run away, terror filling her features after she helped me stop that man.

After the small yellow lightbulb that was flickering had been turned on, I started to turn through the book's pages. The first page was titled Psychic Abilities - Cyberkinesis, and under that, it held the abilities Password and Run Hot; however, after taking a closer look, my glee-filled speed-read not allowing me to before.

I saw that I could apply both at a distance, the difficulty increasing with how far away the device was. While nice, it was not what I was looking for, so I flipped to the next page, which was emblazoned with the words Song-Maiden.

Slightly frowning at the wording, I nonetheless read on. I realized that this power was worse than I thought with increasing horror. It didn't simply improve my confidence and my voice to incredible heights. What it did was whenever I sang during a fight, no matter how large and small, it removed concerns such as their wellbeing or that they should not be involved with this fight.

If what I thought with no small amount of horror what this let me do was turn the slightest twinge of "I should help that man" into a storming assault that would not stop until my signing ended or one side of the fight was dead. The pages bubbled as I set the book down, and I felt a slight heat as the book grew a page thicker. Flipping to this new page, I saw the page held the flowing script that wrote out Healing Potions.

Under that, I saw six small vials containing a red liquid that looked as if the book had painted them on the page. Reaching my hand down, I touched the first potion and pulled, and from one instant to the next, my hand held the vial. Setting it aside, I read the words under the vials, which proclaimed that these potions would deal with one mortal wound apiece and replenish daily.

However, they would stockpile, and the max was six potions. That would be incredible and give me a get out of jail free card if I was hurt, and considering that this was Brockton Bay, the chance of me getting shot or otherwise maimed was high. Slipping the first potion into my pocket and closing the Grimoire, I knew I would need to stock up on other essentials like toothbrushes, soap, food, and other clothing.

New information also meant busking, or any other singing option was out as the mastering portion of Song-Maiden would have me birdcaged faster than I could say Canary. That meant robbing ATMs was back on the table as I doubted any place would hire a 17-year-old with minimal experience, and those references were several worlds away.

The people who would hire me were most likely people I did not want to be hired by anyway. The Protectorate was out as well because I doubted I could walk up and inform them that I was from a different dimension, had a growing list of powers, and could I please join. Add in the fact that the top people were part of a multi-dimensional conspiracy theory with the plan to kill Earth Bet's closest thing to a god.

Shucking on my dirty clothes and shoes, I locked my apartment door behind me. While fairly run down, I had never lived in a big city before, and it was nice to see what went down on the day to day.

What went down appeared to be pretty typical. You had people walking quickly on the sidewalks, old beat-up cars trundling down the road, and stores with signs advertising everything from gas to T-shirts. The main differences I could spot were the beat-down attire and faces of everybody. They walked quickly, shoulders hunched with hands crammed in pockets.

The stores also had metal shutters that shop owners could pull down with a simple tug of a lever. Stepping into one of these shops, I fingered the money in my pocket and looked around for the items I needed. Walking down the lanes rife with empty shelves, I could see how hard parahumans and the Endbringers had hit certain parts of this world.

Taking a few minutes, I filled a shopping cart with a week's worth of clothes, toothbrushes, toothpaste, an electric razor, and enough non-perishables for a few weeks. Doubling back, I also tossed in a few pairs of black sweat pants and a hoodie and accompanying black bandanna.

The woman at the counter looked up lazily from the magazine she had been reading and tucked her short black hair behind one ear as she got to work scanning my items.

A few minutes later, I carried back my items and regretted my choice not to buy a bag. Nobody paid me any mind as I stumbled into my apartment building and opened the door with a few firm shoves after setting my goods on the ground.

I then started to sort my newfound items folding the clothes and putting them in the tiny closet, placing the food in the little cupboard, and setting up a small area where I could brush my teeth and engage in other morning activities. After putting all the items away, I sat down on my bed and pulled out a mechanical pencil and small notepad I had bought earlier. I started to write down everything I knew about Worm before I forgot it.

I knew canon started around April 10th-11th when Talyor went out on her first patrol after a few weeks of preparing. That night Lung, the dragon-like leader of the ABB or Azn Bad Boyz, went hunting the Undersiders, a group of teenage criminals.

That meant Taylor most likely had triggered a few days ago and was currently in a psych ward. The Undersiders would also be robbing the Ruby Dreams Casino, which may or may not be a front for the ABB; I didn't remember if that was fanon.

Shortly after that, Taylor would join up with the Undersiders and rob a bank to cover up the kidnapping of Dinah Alcott, an 11-year-old precog. Chewing on the end of the mechanical pencil, I needed to figure out a way to stop that. However, the main issue was that I did not have a method of fighting myself.

Mind-controlling people would end in disaster, and healing potions would be a backup if I got shot by Coil's goons which were laser guns if I remember correctly. The ability to access his computer, while nice, would need me to be within 30ish feet of it and would not help with the abduction, and improving his mercenaries' gear would not help either.

As I stood up to stretch, I felt a faint warmth emanating from the Grimoire, and it grew slightly more extensive as another page grew in between its covers. Darting over, I picked up the book and settled down for another read. At the top in the now customary lettering are the words Magus Education and under that slightly smaller Formalcraft.

After reading the first few lines that detailed my time in the Clocktower and letting my brain tingle as I absorbed information, I set the book down as my mouth opened. My customary cackly-giggly laughter emerged unbidden from my mouth as images flashed by.

The Gate of Babylon opened and spilled out countless treasures, an invisible sword raised and let loose, and me home after many years away. My laughter died down as I cracked open the book again. Hours passed as I absorbed the years of knowledge on this single page.

To my disappointment, I could not use the vast majority of magecraft that was taught to me. With my lack of magic circuits or another method of accessing an inner pool of magic, even simple tricks such as Reinforcement, Gradation Air, and Hypnotism were beyond my reach. However, Formalcraft, which the majority of this page took up, I could use, all it would take was some chanting, a bit of blood, and perhaps a sacrifice or two, and I would be able to use my other tricks.

Setting the open book on the counter, I pulled out one of my health potions and an old steak knife. Carefully cutting the palm of my hand per the instruction held in the Grimoire and now my head. Careful squeezes, and soon I had a reasonably straight circle where the steak knife lay. Then taking my finger, I traced a few sigils with the blood, after which I started chanting in german.

"Better and better, I call upon my spirits, the ones that watch, to improve and improve."

After letting my words fade into the air, I saw the blood light up slightly and the knife quiver slightly. After conferring with my Grimoire, I determined that after 10 minutes held inside the circle, the knife would be able to cut through most mundane materials with ease. It would keep this property for a minute after being taken out.

There were other methods to improve this time; the best would be either sacrifice as a soul human or otherwise hold tremendous power. The much more ethically sourced would be gems, which I could buy. Making sure to lock my door behind me, book under arm, I headed to the Boardwalk. The locale soon improved as I walked into the more affluent portions of Brockton Bay, and I was quickly in the wealthiest city blocks.

I took a brief moment to observe the Rig and saw for the first time the forcefield bridge as it shimmered into view. Tempering my new instincts to analyze it, I soon headed into a nearby pawn shop, aware of my limited funds. As the small bell gave off its customary ring, a priority balding man set down the book he had been reading and pulled on a pair of half-moon spectacles.

"How can I help you today, sir," He said as his trimmed beard curled up as his grandfatherly face grinned.

"I'm looking to buy a ruby," I stated, impulsive to hesitate, crushed under my new smooth voice.

"I see an aspiring collector?" He inquired hands smoothly and with great familiarity pulling out several small boxes.

"We have several options from the among." He gestured to one that was pulled from a ring.

"To the most expensive." The other hand opened a box showing a cleanly cut and beautiful ruby that glimmered softly in the store light.

"How much would the cheapest be?"

"25 Dollars"

"The most expensive?"

"One grand"

"I'll bye the cheapest," I said, placing down the requested 25 dollars.

The man slid the cash under the counter with a wide grin and passed me the gem. Sliding the gem into a pocket, I started the trek back to my place. On the way back, I spotted an ATM that wasn't being watched and withdrew a few thousand dollars before continuing on my way. With the now usual shoulder slam that opened my door.

I observed the knife now glowing with faint cerulean lines that signified that it was charged and any additional time in the circle was wasted. Cleaning up the now dried blood and setting up a circle to power the gem took much longer than I would have liked.

However, around a few hours and two potions later, I had my new rock glowing as mana lines were carved into its surface. The more elaborate linked glyphs served two purposes. The first was to fill the gem with power that could easily be pulled out, while it would be pretty lethal to pass through my body, still leaving me unable to use other magecraft.

It could be used to power other items, such as my knife. The second circle was used to apply Reinforcement to the gem improving it ever so slightly with only the minimal risk it would explode. Given a few years, it might reach the level of gems that would be useful in Gemcraft; however, my current standards were much lower.

My reading was interrupted by a harsh knock on the door. Swiftly tossing my blanket over my Formalcraft ritual, careful not to smudge the lines, I cracked the door open. I saw my landlord looking annoyed and two officers, one of which stepped to my door and flashed a badge retracting it too fast for me to catch more than PRT.

"What can I do for you, officers?" I inquired

"We just wish to ask a few questions about last night," The man on the right asked. He was clothed in the typical PRT uniform, chain-mail, and kevlar, a firearm hanging on his belt. His face was set in severe lines with a five o'clock shadow, brown hair cut short.

While his partner was wearing the same gear, his face was clean-shaven, and sporting a slight grin as if he was happy to be on the job. My fingers tingled as the Grimore tucked under my arm burbled; however, it stayed the same, and I was relieved.

Of course, officers, what do you want to know?" The slightly more grungy one replied

"We had a report a robbery occurred a block south from here. Did you hear anything?"

"I did not, sir," I replied, knees shaking slightly as I remembered that I was maskless when I interfered, and only the lack of lighting saved me from a nice cozy cell. The clean-shaven man pushed a small card into my hand containing the PRT's logo and a number underneath.

"Well, if you remember anything or find anything new, just call that number."

"I will, and have a good night, officers," I replied with a slight nod, gently shutting the door. After waiting a few minutes to make sure they had left, I staggered over to my bed and slumped into it bonelessly, breathing harder.

"Ok, no more heroing unless I have a proper method of hiding my identity," I muttered into my tiny room before pulling the bedsheet off my imbuing ritual. Locking my door and getting dressed in my new pajamas, I settled into my bed and fell asleep after a long few minutes.

Powers Gained

Magus Education(Formalcraft):An official education! The proper way for a magus to learn his arts, to travel to the famed Clocktower institution and learn from the greatest, and most egotistical, minds of the Mages' Association. Even if you're some country bumpkin from the Far East, you've had the chance to get a formalized education and degree at the Clocktower over the course of four to eight years. It taught you all the basics of being a Magus, such as decent capability with Formalcraft, Reinforcement, Gradation Air, and Hypnotism. The core arts of any magus, as well as a general familiarity with the supernatural world. You also took on something of a specialty, possibly even a family legacy you inherited, in magecraft. In a field of modern magecraft, you've made a name as having decent potential. An amateur to any professional but in your chosen field, from a rookie Alchemist to a burgeoning Elementalist to a spirit user or something more specific, you've got a few years training on the other students with no ability at all. Your time there also lets you gain a few friends and contacts at the Association, mostly classmates and perhaps a faculty member or two.